


Always Yours

by SevenSeaSaurus



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Feelings, some minor OCs because I needed the Dark Brotherhood to actually have people in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 20:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18506245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenSeaSaurus/pseuds/SevenSeaSaurus
Summary: "Delvin Mallory and the Dark Brotherhood have... history. He can be trusted."--Astrid





	Always Yours

_“Astrid,_

_Let it be known that this letter is worth fifteen thousand septims, usable for any goods or services I may provide, as per our usual agreement._

_You want it, I can get it._

_Always yours,”_

There were, as well, additional notes written on the small slip of paper in Delvin’s hand, indicating that ten thousand of those septims had already been used up. Ten thousand on expensive things like signed copies of famous cookbooks and exotic poisons all the way from Hammerfell. But that left five thousand to spend. Five thousand for _Astrid_ to spend, but considering the circumstances it was permissible that someone else had handed it off. Delvin wasn’t looking at the letter, though. He wasn’t looking at anything at all when Brynjolf sat down across from him.

“I’ve never seen you lost in thought.”

Brynjolf seemed cheery enough—everyone did these days, what with the Guild earning back the luck and loot that Mercer had stolen out from under them—but Delvin was not. He hardly acknowledged his friend’s presence.

After a few moments of silence he muttered “got some news is all.”

Delvin nodded toward the bar. Thieves were clustered about the counter with bottles of mead, laughing, chatting, and, of course, boasting about their most recent hauls. But among the dull brown backs was one set apart from the rest, ornate in red and black, like a fox among skeevers. That armor was unusual but not unfamiliar, and it told Brynjolf all he needed to know.

“You said yourself you weren’t sure any of them got out, I’d say that’s some good news.”

It didn’t help. Of course it was true; Delvin had heard the rumors some time ago, about smoke visible from Whiterun, about how the people of Skyrim had one less bogeyman to fear in the night. But part of him had held out hope. Hope that some had survived. Some had. But not the one Delvin had been hoping for.

Brynjolf sighed and stood up to fetch some mead for the both of them, Black-briar reserve as the occasion demanded. Their guest needed some as well, perhaps even more than Delvin did. But Delvin only read over those words again.

_Always yours,_

 

 

It was supposed to be an easy job--hardly even a job at all--totally doable for a thief just starting to make a real name for himself in the Guild. But Delvin had somehow managed to muck it up in the worst way possible. That the innkeeper would notice someone sneaking around in the store room, looking for the strongbox and expensive ale? An amateur mistake, but understandable. All Delvin had to do was accept his failure and get out before anyone called the guards.

He panicked. He didn’t mean to kill the innkeeper, really.  But even the Guild of Thieves has rules, and murdering an utterly innocent man put Delvin in as much a bad place with the folks in the Ratway as with the hold guards.

He was lucky, really, that Gallus cared enough to stick his neck out.

“So who’s it that we’re going to meet anyway?”

“A friend.”

The pair of them had been traveling for days—weeks?—now, heading off to who-knows-where to find someone who, at least according to Gallus, would provide a place for Delvin to stay until the whole murder business settled down. Gallus was always cryptic, but it would be nice to know at least a little about the man Delvin was supposed to _live with_.

“Can I at least know the guy’s name? You haven’t told me a damn thing!”

“We’ll have plenty of time for introductions when he meets us, and in fact,” Gallus paused and began to scan the surrounding woods “I suspect he may already be watching.”

Delvin curled his lip, doubting that anyone could sneak up on a pair of Guild-trained thieves.

But then: “Always observant aren’t we, Gallus?”

“Always,” Gallus laughed.

Delvin, on the other hand, nearly jumped out of his boots.

“So this is the new recruit who was causing you trouble back in Riften?”

Gallus nodded and motioned for Delvin to come forward for an introduction. Delvin had not expected this ‘friend’ to be an Argonian, and he had never in his life seen an Argonian so old. The man had missing teeth and broken spines and a fat, drooping jaw. Faced with this whole appearance, Delvin wondered how such a bulbous old crone had managed to sneak up on them.

“Delvin” Gallus began with a gesture, “meet my good friend Waits-in-Silence.”

Waits-in-Silence smiled. Delvin pouted.

“I was told you would be giving me a place to stay for a while.”

“Yes. Gallus sent me a letter explaining the whole nasty situation. Murdered someone hmm? Well if that’s so then you’ll have no problem fitting in with me and my family.”

“You and your family?”

Waits-in-Silence gave a hearty laugh at that, as if it were funny that Delvin was kept in the dark. “Oh don’t tell me Gallus didn’t tell you? How typical of him to keep everything hidden until the moment of dramatic reveal. Allow me to truly introduce myself then:

“I am Waits-in-Silence, leader of the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary here in Falkreath.”

 

 

The Dark Brotherhood wasn’t so bad. Sure, even after a few months of living with them Delvin still hadn’t really made any friends, but at least by now he had met everyone and knew all their names.

Waits-in-Silence was, as he had introduced himself, the leader of the sanctuary. He was also, apparently, a former member of the now long-gone Shadowscales of Black Marsh, and he claimed his young apprentice Veezara to be the last of their kind. Then there was the soothsayer Gabriella, and the vampire Babette, and the grouchy wizard Festus. The Kajiit twins called themselves Tooth and Claw, but Delvin was quite certain those weren’t their real names. And the old lady Scylla never seemed to leave the sanctuary—apparently even assassins need to retire. But of all the bloody and bloodthirsty men and women Delvin found in the sanctuary, the most interesting by far was Astrid.

Astrid was perfect. She had perfect blonde hair—just his type—perfect eyes, perfect tits, and a perfectly deadly blade. Her voice was smooth and seductive, like she was always hiding some fiendish little secret. Maybe she was. But as much as Delvin admired Astrid, he never really got a chance to talk to her. No, instead Astrid spent most of her time away from the sanctuary, out meeting with clients and tracking down marks. If and when she was home she always wanted to be alone.

But now he had a chance: Waits-in-Silence had sent them out on a contract together.

Ordinarily, Delvin would have tried to avoid the family business, thinking that any day he would return to Riften and the Thieves Guild. A chance to spend time alone with Astrid, however, was too good to pass up.

“Lookit what I got us.”

Delvin opened up his pack and pulled out a small loaf of bread, a chunk of sliced cheese, and a bottle of wine with two silver goblets.

“You didn’t steal all that, did you?”

“What, you mean I was supposed to pay for it?”

Astrid rolled her eyes.

“Your guile needs work. We are here to break into Dragonsreach dungeon and assassinate one of the prisoners. If you get us caught for stealing”—

“Then they’ll take us right there!”

It was a terrible suggestion and Delvin knew it. Their intended strategy involved a bit more finesse. It was up to Delvin to pick as many locks and pockets as necessary to get Astrid into—and out of—the prison. But a little teasing never hurt anybody.

“Say, why are we going after some guy who’s already got himself locked up?” he started again, gathering that Astrid was just going to ignore his previous comment. “I think we should just sit back, sip our wine, and call it a job well done.”

“Are you saying you didn’t listen to the brief?”

“The what now?”

Oh this was fun. Both of them knew that Delvin remembered the brief and was just trying to be a pest. But nevertheless, Astrid humored him.

“Because he was arrested for bigamy; not exactly a capital offense. Were it not for us he’d be out as soon as some priest of Mara got the whole thing settled.”

“Right. His wifey from Markarth wanted him offed as soon as she heard, didn’t she? Gotta wonder whether wifey from Whiterun will be thanking us too.”

“Well we’re not going to hang around to find out. You’re getting me into the jail tonight, and we’ll be gone before sunrise.”

“Don’t like the city, eh?”

“You shouldn’t either. But then again, you’re no assassin. Just a common thief.”

That shut Delvin up. It was partially true. Thieves liked cities, full of stupid merchants with heavy pockets. But for an assassin the city was an obstacle more than an opportunity. The cities held their marks, but also guards and mercenaries and frightened townsfolk. In and out, that was the game.

It was true as well that Delvin was no assassin, not really. On the rare few occasions that he did leave the sanctuary it was to help in breaking and entering; never killing. He had come to the Brotherhood to distance himself from murder, after all. But Delvin was no _common_ thief, and he did not care for the insinuation that assassins were any better than thieves in general.

“Common thief, huh? Guess these are all mine then.”

Delvin reached for the goblet of wine he had placed in front of Astrid, but she snatched it close, smirking as she did.

“Oh no. This is mine now.”

The game had shifted. A few moments ago he was behaving like an ass, having a grand old time, while Astrid was grinding her teeth and rolling her eyes. Now Astrid was the one teasing and Delvin the one getting riled up. It was a game Delvin had played many times with pretty girls; there was nothing quite like the simple victory of pissing some sweet thing off with a stupid grin and sopping up all her attention. But now that he was losing, Delvin had to pause. There was nothing like that either, and he wasn’t sure he disliked it.

Delvin smiled—not smirked—as he thought this. And that seemed to throw Astrid off the game.

They were silent for some time, eating bread and tipping back wine without really acknowledging one another any further. Delvin could always appreciate company without conversation, but there was more to be said.

“Yeah, I’m no murderer. I’m a thief. Just here until the folks back in Riften realize that. But you, why are you here? How does a girl like you end up in the Dark Brotherhood?”

“A girl like me? What, am I too beautiful to be an assassin?” Astrid laughed. She had countered, but she was not annoyed, even though another girl might have been. No, Astrid was something else. She saw right through Delvin’s snarky façade.

“No one can be too beautiful, not for anything. It’s just a manner of speaking, ya know? But you’re avoiding the question.”

“I am.”

Astrid was focused on her wine, Delvin on her. He had only asked the question in order to get more out of the conversation, but now that she seemed evasive and lost in thought he was genuinely interested. With any other girl, with any other person, he might have pressed the issue, too nosey to show any kind of respect. But somehow with Astrid he knew to keep his mouth shut.

“I killed my uncle.”

“Must’ve been one bitch of an uncle.”

“He was,” Astrid almost chuckled at that, still looking down at her now-empty goblet. “He tried to take me to bed with him. I was fourteen.”

That stopped him cold.

No one had ever told Delvin anything like that. Why would anyone have reason to? Delvin was not exactly the understanding sort, and his relentless flirting and teasing certainly gave the impression that he was more likely to side with the uncle. But not today. No, today he was unsure how to react.

“So you killed him—right choice there—and then ran off to join the Brotherhood?”

“No, not right away. I enjoyed killing him, and not just because of the circumstances. I had to kill again, and when I did I liked that even more. No pressure, no fear, just the raw thrill of absolute power over life and death. That’s when Waits-in-Silence found me, and here I am.”

“And here you are.” Delvin stopped for another sip of wine. “Better story than mine. I was just a dumb street kid who got in with the Guild and couldn’t steal some lousy ale without knifing a guy.”

“Well, I hope you’re better at breaking into prisons. And out.”

Indeed night was just beginning to fall, and soon they would have to set their plans in motion.

When they did, it was perfect. The way Delvin snuck up on a tired guard and snatched away his key without a footstep or a clink was perfect. The way Astrid shoved a shiv in the mark’s stomach and made it look like the unfortunate result of a common prison fight was perfect.

The two of them together were perfect.

At least Delvin thought so. Waits-in-Silence thought so too, as he sent Delvin and Astrid on many more successful contracts together. In that sense, Astrid agreed; they were perfect partners when it came to murder and stealth. But Delvin saw them as something more. Yes, against every aspect of his personality and overall disposition, Delvin was beginning to admit to himself that he was in love.

 

 

It was only supposed to be a few months, a year at most, before Delvin packed up his things and made the journey back to Riften. But soon the first year had passed, and then another, and another, and before long Delvin had all but forgotten about his friends down in the Ratway.

Delvin and Astrid became very close, closer than either of them had ever imagined possible. In spite of the playful winks they got from the other folks in the sanctuary, for a long time Delvin had loved alone. Astrid never could trust anyone but herself.

When she finally came around Delvin had been with the Brotherhood for nearly a decade. They sat beside the waterfall together, safe in their sanctuary. Astrid teased Delvin for his premature baldness, Delvin teased Astrid for her reluctance. Astrid proved him wrong with a kiss. And in that moment Delvin felt that maybe he had found something much more precious than any loot he might steal.

 

But Mara seldom smiles upon the likes of thieves and assassins.

 

“I have received word from the Black Hand.”

Waits-in-Silence was always in communication with the leadership of the Dark Brotherhood, and it was not uncommon for him to share the news over dinner. Usually it would be a pile of contracts, whichever were closest to Falkreath. But as he addressed the sanctuary tonight—and indeed the whole sanctuary, for by some miracle everyone was home—the tension in his voice made clear that this was no ordinary announcement.

“Well?” Festus asked, having no patience for hesitation. “What is it this time?”

“The Night Mother’s crypt in Bravil has been raided. The Unholy Matron herself was safely removed and is now under the protection of the Black Hand. But the Listener was killed, and with her many of the remaining members of the Brotherhood in Cyrodiil.”

 Festus was not impatient anymore. No one was. Delvin had never really given much thought to the Dark Brotherhood outside of Falkreath, and though he was admittedly a bit superstitious he had never been all that religious. But every real contract came out of Bravil, and even Delvin knew that only the Listener could relate the prayers of those who had performed the Black Sacrament. Without her there was always rumor, but rumor alone would not be enough to find every would-be client out there chanting over a pile of bones.

“We ought to send someone, a group of our very best to be presented before the Night Mother. A new Listener must be chosen” Gabriella offered, breaking the silence.

“Why? Our brothers in Cyrodiil have little to do with us” countered Tooth, and Claw nodded in agreement.

Now Festus joined in: “There are no contracts without a Listener! What do you suggest we do? Go door-to-door asking people if they are interested in a little murder?”

“We will always find contracts if we look. They pay just as well without the sacrament.”

“So you would have us become like common sell-swords then?”

“Not common; we are still the most talented.”

“And how long will that last if we abandon the Night Mother, the tenets, and everything else that makes the Dark Brotherhood what it is?”

Soon enough everyone had an opinion. Gabriella, Festus, and Scylla thought that a delegation should be sent to Cyrodiil in the hope that one might become the Listener. Tooth and Claw thought that the Falkreath Sanctuary should continue its work by listening to rumors and acting as mercenaries. Babette and Astrid tried to make the point that they could do both. Veezara just tried to get everyone to stop shouting. Waits-in-Silence remained true to his name. Delvin had enough.

“I’m going to bed.”

For just a moment everyone paused to watch Delvin shove out of his seat and trudge up the stairs, but as soon as he was out of sight the argument continued. Of course, the beds were unfortunately lined up overlooking the dining hall, so he could only try in vain to sleep as the shouting match continued to enfold below.

But soon enough Astrid had come up to join him. They shared a look of annoyance, and perhaps a little worry, before Astrid threw herself on her own bed and tried to sleep. Then Veezara, and eventually the rest of the exhausted assassins gave up the debate. Waits-in-Silence was the last to leave, and by the time he had stepped out of the room Delvin had finally found his rest.

But no one in the Dark Brotherhood could rest then, not in Cyrodiil and not in Skyrim.

When Delvin woke up again it was to the sound of blades clashing. He was on his feet in a moment and looking over the balcony to Claw lying dead and Tooth pinning Scylla to the floor. Delvin wasn’t about to stick around and find out why.

“Get up! Get up, dammit! Astrid, get up!”

Astrid was still dizzy with sleep as Delvin yanked her out of bed and urged her out of the sanctuary.

“What’s going on?”

“Claw is dead and I don’t want to be here when someone else gets killed. Especially if that someone is one of us.”

Astrid tried to pull away, perhaps to stop the fighting or perhaps to join it. But Delvin held tight to her arm and didn’t look back until the black door was closed behind them.

“What happened?” Astrid demanded.

“I don’t really know. I woke up to the sound of Tooth shrieking that her brother had been killed.”

“Did you see who did it?”

“Maybe Veezara, maybe Scylla. Both of ‘em were there. Festus too I think.”

Astrid was clearly shaken. Delvin was too, though he tried not to show it. They couldn’t hear anything from the outside, or at least nothing but crickets and the occasional owl.

It was a clear night, that was a blessing at least. There was little wind. The nightshade was thick around them, beautiful but deadly. Like Astrid. Delvin needed these thoughts to keep his mind busy while who-knows-what was going on in the sanctuary.

Some branches cracked and Astrid flinched; as she did the deer foraging behind them dashed off.

“Sithis, I’m on edge. Just a damn deer.”

“Well Astrid, you do gotta be careful. Never know what could sneak up on us while we’re out in the woods at night.”

Never a bad time to be a pest.

“Oh? What in the world could pose a threat to us?”

“Werebears,” Delvin said with a smirk.

“Werebears aren’t real.”

“Sure they are! My brother Glover has seen ‘em all over on Solstheim!” Astrid raised an incredulous eyebrow, to which Delvin added “or at least that’s what he tells me.”

Together they could laugh at that, in spite of the situation at hand. Eventually, when it seemed safe, they would have to go back inside and find out what had happened. But for now at least a little humor was comfort enough. They could ignore the sanctuary.

The sanctuary.

“Shit, why do they call it that?”

“What?”

“A sanctuary. It doesn’t make sense. You’ve got all these assassins holed up in there, every one of ‘em just waiting for a good kill, and you call it a sanctuary. Who comes to a place like that for ‘sanctuary’?”

“You did.”

So he did. It was the first time in a long time that Delvin had been reminded of his whole reason for being there. Certainly by now the Thieves Guild had seen enough scandals to forget about his little blunder with the innkeeper. Certainly by now the Riften guards had given up the hunt. For years the Dark Brotherhood had been his sanctuary, but was it ever his home?

What were they doing back in Riften? His contracts with Astrid had taken Delvin all over the west, to Solitude and Markarth and Whiterun, to dinky little towns like Rorikstead and Riverwood. But what about Riften? Did that girl with the red hair still work at that market stall? Did the Bee and Barb still sell that spiced wine? Was everyone he knew at the guild still there? Had anyone new joined up?

Thoughts of Riften and life in the Thieves Guild were a much better distraction than deer and werebears. While Delvin absentmindedly played with Astrid’s hair, he reminisced about the old friends and familiar hangouts of that golden wood to the east. Sweet memories of the past took him away from the worries of the present.

He was almost pissed when Gabriella interrupted them.

“There you two are. Come inside, quickly. Waits-in-Silence needs to speak with all of us.”

“What happened?” Astrid was the first to ask.

“There was a fight. No one can agree who started it, but can anyone ever? That’s not important. Scylla killed Claw, Tooth killed Scylla, Festus tried to kill Tooth and Waits-in-Silence was caught in the middle.”

“Waits-in-Silence? Was he hurt? Is he okay?”

“Yes, yes, and no.”

And then the scene of the fight: Claw lay dead on the floor, half under the table. Scylla had been thrown up against the wall. Tooth was brooding under the stairs but looked more frightened and concerned than angry. Veezara and Festus were hovering over Waits-in-Silence while Babette pressed a wet rag into the wound on his stomach. It looked bad.

“Astrid, and Delvin. Everyone then? Good.” Waits-in-Silence could hardly speak, coughing between words and barely able to lift above a whisper.

“Try to hold still, master. You’re making the bleeding worse,” Veezara advised. He might have said more if Babette had not silenced him with a shake of her head.

Waits-in-Silence was dying, and neither she nor anyone else could stop it.

“It’s all right Veezara, the void has long been waiting for me,” he sputtered. “This fighting must not continue after I have passed. Whether the Dark Brotherhood follows the path of mercenaries and subsists off of word of mouth, whether we reunite with our brothers in Cyrodiil and continue in the ancient tradition—that choice will be left to the next leader of the sanctuary. And her word will be law.”

As Waits-in-Silence wheezed again, the group of assassins looked to one another in speculation. _Her_ word. Festus already seemed annoyed, thinking that he should have been named successor. Tooth came a little closer, though Delvin doubted very much that Waits-in-Silence had her in mind. No, Delvin felt confident that he already knew who the next leader of the Dark Brotherhood would be.

“Astrid. You will take my place.”

Veezara seemed surprised. Babette was relieved—she had been in the Dark Brotherhood longer than anyone but had never cared for the responsibility of leadership. Tooth stepped back under the stairs. Gabriella did not react, though she was a soothsayer after all, and so perhaps she already knew.

Astrid was simply stunned.

“Me?”

“Yes. You may not be as experienced as Festus, and certainly not Babette, nor are you as knowledgeable as Gabriella. But you are nonetheless talented and,” Waits-in-Silence gave Delvin a careful look, “you know how to work as a team. That is where I have failed; that failure is why Claw and Scylla and now I lie dead.”

Astrid was silent.

Macabre as it was, Delvin couldn’t help but think that Astrid might hesitate so long that Waits-in-Silence would be gone before she answered.

But finally: “If that is your wish, it would be my honor to lead this family.”

Waits-in-Silence barely managed a smile. “I’m certain you will lead our family to greatness.”

He did not last long after that. When the time came, the whole Brotherhood lay him to rest in the traditional place, with Claw and Scylla. They would serve the Dread Lord from the void now. Astrid put any lasting arguments to rest right away; the Dark Brotherhood would continue in whatever way it could, as Tooth had suggested. But they would remain open to the old ways, and would recognize a new Listener whenever he or she might appear, as Festus and Gabriella wanted.

Oh yes, the Dark Brotherhood would go on to be quite successful with Astrid at the helm.

But now that he had been reminded of his home back in Riften, Delvin couldn’t stay any longer.

 

 

“You really can’t trust anyone, can you?”

Astrid was colder than usual, but that was to be expected. Delvin was abandoning her after all.

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who never seemed to care about me.”

“Oh not this again. I did kiss you.”

She did. And they were still close. But in the weeks that it took for the Dark Brotherhood to regain some semblance of order Astrid had become much more distant. Her responsibilities as leader ate up her time and put down her mood, and the events of that bloody night had left her shaken by ever-growing paranoia. And of course, there was the fact that Astrid still believed she could have helped if only Delvin hadn’t dragged her away. Really, Delvin had no reason to hang around.

“You’ve always known that I wasn’t gonna stay. Seems like now’s as good a time as any to go back to the Guild.”

“Well then I won’t stop you. Though after all these years, I think you’re crazy to go.”

“Sure am. See ya ‘round, Astrid.”

Astrid smirked just a little. The journey to Riften would be long, and in Riften he would stay. It was better to do this quickly, to simply leave and never look back. But Delvin paused just before the black door closed behind him, and he did look back, if only for a moment.

“Oh, and if you need anything from the Guild, just remember that I’m always yours.”

 

 

Oh how pissed Delvin was when he finally waltzed into the Ratway to find out that Gallus was dead—killed by Karliah no less—and Mercer was the new guild master. It was almost enough to send him running straight back to the Brotherhood. But he decided to stay. Even when the Guild lost its luck Delvin stayed, and it was probably for the best. That could have been him in the fire, smoked out like a rat and cut down by the Penitus Oculatus. In another life, perhaps.

Instead he was sitting in the Ragged Flagon, livelier now than it had been in many, many years. This was his family. He teased Vex, though she would never mean as much to him as Astrid. Then there was Sapphire, enigmatic but he knew her story better than anyone. He had Dirge and Rune and Etienne, Tonilia and her husband Vekel. The new guild master? Now there was a character. And Brynjolf, who had been sitting with him all this time.

Delvin took a swig of his mead, now flat and tepid, though he didn’t care.

“Well Bryn, we got ourselves a job.”

“Oh?”

“The Dark Brotherhood is gonna be needing some renovations. New furniture, some nice banners. Just to pretty the place up, ya know? They’ll be paying us big for it too.”

Brynjolf smiled, glad to see that Delvin was at least making an attempt.

“I’ll let the guild master know.”

As he stepped away Delvin read over the note, still in his hand, one last time. Astrid was gone, but for Delvin she had been gone a long time. Gone in a sanctuary that was only a memory, gone to a smelly dog of a husband, gone and only speaking to him through precious baubles like an amulet from the emperor’s inner circle.

He had made a promise to Astrid the day he left the sanctuary, but now that promise would hold for the Dark Brotherhood itself, whoever its leader or Listener might be.

Whether he was also a thief was irrelevant; Delvin would always belong to the Dark Brotherhood.


End file.
